Dexter FanFic End of Season 4
by Rodriuni
Summary: I start this story at a pivotal point in the Dexter story-line. I was disappointed when the television show was unaffected by Rita's death. She was kind of forgotten over the episodes. This is the first chapter and I'd like to get a few views before writing more, but I still have more ideas about where this is going to go, and there's a big part coming up, if you guys like this.


**Dexter FanFic**  
_The events in this tale take place after the end of season 4. Rita has been discovered by Dexter in a bathtub full of her own blood, ritualistically murdered by the Trinity killer after Dexter continually refused Harry's advice to dispose of him as quickly as possible. Dexter's arrogance and his over-confidence in always being in control of the situation has led to the grisly murder of his wife._

"Born in blood. Both of us. Harry was right. I thought I could change what I am, keep my family safe, but it doesn't matter what I do, what I choose; I'm what's wrong. This is fate."

"I know you're not into this stuff, but the moon tonight is going to be amazing. So take a moment, you deserve it. I love you, bye."

Those were Rita's very last words to Dexter as she left a message on his voice-mail, perhaps minutes before being murdered. Perhaps Trinity himself heard these words as he hid in the shadows of their house, allowing her to finish her last goodbye before wrapping his arm around her neck and putting her to sleep, then stripping himself and Rita nude, filling the bathtub, severing her femoral artery, seeing the life leave her eyes.  
Dexter held his infant son in his arms while standing on his lawn, both their clothes stained in Rita's blood. The moon was as amazing as Rita said it would be, but just like Rita, it was now drenched in blood. It was amazingly horrid. Dexter fell to his knees, as there was no strength left in them. Never before, as he plunged a knife into his victim's heart, did Dexter sympathize with the fear, the panic they might have felt at their last moment. He only reveled in it. But as he now looked at this crimson-moon mirage, Dexter wondered if this dread he felt now was what his victims felt as they looked into Dexter's eyes filled with murderous lust.  
He wondered if that's what Rita felt in her own last moments.  
It was too much. Harrison tumbled out of his arms and onto the grass, Dexter's vision closed in at the sides, and the last thing he saw was that terrible moon.

Dexter woke up to the sounds of sirens in the distance, and Harrison's crying a few feet away from him. His child was in the arms of a stranger who was bobbing him up and down, unsuccessful in ceasing his screaming. A crowd had formed and Dexter heard one of them ask "is the baby hurt?" "I think he's only scared", the stranger holding Harrison responded. One of them turned around to see Dexter getting to his feet.  
"Sir, are you okay?! What happened?!" He asked. Dexter thought to say "I'm fine." What came out horrified not only this stranger, but Dexter himself.  
"I killed my wife." Dexter's mind reeled back. It wasn't his brain that chose to say that. This was guilt. Dark, endless guilt, never once felt in Dexter's life. He uttered those words again.  
"I've killed my wife!" Involuntary tears fell down his usually wooden face.  
"He's in shock!" Said another of the strangers.  
Dexter, in his mind, agreed.  
"Sir, I think you should sit back down."  
But his body reacted on it's own. Dexter saw his hands go out and grasp the neck of the man in front of him, his hands still red with blood. A rage like never before surged through Dexter, the dark passenger fully in control now, out in the light of the moon. His full weight fell on the man and they were both on the ground now. Dexter felt an arm around his own neck, trying to pull him off. Dexter's strength was too much and he pulled himself free; he turned around and struck the man full-force in the face.  
A screech of tires, the sound of car doors opening then shutting, police lights illuminating the front of a once happy home.  
"Put your arms up!" Dexter heard, but could not comply; for this was not Dexter anymore. He was broken, his passenger in control, and the dark sap that filled his insides poured out like flood-gates opening. It took three police officers to pull Dexter off the stranger he would have undoubtedly killed. A knee went on the back of Dexter's neck and his arms were pulled back behind him, and handcuffs were slipped around his wrists. Another two officers were necessary to bridle this madman, and they dragged Dexter into the back of a cop car. He fought back with every last inch of strength he had left but the police availed. Dexter sat, handcuffed, in the back of a police vehicle.  
Four officers walked into the house with their guns raised, holding flashlights as they inspected inside. One officer called in for more back-up before questioning the strangers. Dexter saw the stranger still holding Harrison and it made his animal instincts multiply his murderous rage. He kicked and screamed, and ran his head repeatedly into the window. Now his face was covered in blood, seeping into his eyes, blurring them. But he still saw what made him scream in horror at the top of his lungs, what curdled his blood and drove him to the brink of insanity.  
There on the lawn stood Harry, his step-father, the one who gave him the code so that Dexter would never kill an innocent person, only those who deserved it. There was Harry, truly a victim of Dexter's hunger. He stood there in a hospital gown, how Dexter last saw him, after his self-administered over-dose after Harry first laid eyes on the Monster Dexter was, only now his eyes were gouged out, replaced by sickly black empty sockets. He held Rita's lifeless body. A dripping, bloody, nude Rita, both of them glowing in the red light from the crimson moon. Innocent deaths. Dexter's victims.


End file.
